


your love is my turning page

by acciosilver, guiltyphandiot



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 06:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8275834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciosilver/pseuds/acciosilver, https://archiveofourown.org/users/guiltyphandiot/pseuds/guiltyphandiot
Summary: We must look like an arguing couple. She flashes me a sympathetic look and goes to fill our drink orders.We always get that. You two are the cutest couple. How long have you been together? You look so in love. But, it’s never been like that. Not since the first night we went walking after Richie’s rehearsals. He can’t be in a relationship. He’s not allowed.But, then last night? What the hell was last night?





	1. I surrender who I've been for who you are.

**October 2nd, 2015**

It’s noon by the time we reach actual civilization. I venture a glance at the GPS and note that we’re about four hours away from our hotel respite. _Thank God_. I roll down the window, bit desperate for some fresh air. The country’s nice.  
  
The clouds hang heavy in the sky and it’s shaping up to be a Hell of a cold day. Richie’s fallen asleep with his forehead pressed against the passenger side window and it’s a while before my sluggish brain realizes he’s shaking from the cold. I reach back for my jacket, drape it over his shoulders.  
  
The road signs tell me a petrol station is coming up and thank god. Richie needs to eat something. Even if it’s a power bar. Drink some water. Anything. I polish off the huge bottle of water I picked up at the last pit stop.  
  
“Hey Rich,” I reach over, tap Richie’s arm with the empty bottle. “We should stop soon, yeah? Lunch?” 

Christ, that should be illegal. The sound Rich makes as he wakes up; soft and breathy. We can’t have a repeat of the night before we left. _For your own good, Rin. For your life._ I shake his voice from my thoughts, stay on course. Fuck around with the GPS until I find the direct route to the nearest petrol station and follow the irritating little computer voice until I pull up next to a pump. “Wanna go fill the bottle?”  
  
Richie moves stiffly, stretches and cracks his joints and I turn to push buttons, swipe card, lift the pump. Ignore the thought of what Rich looks like under his soft jumper, t-shirt, and jeans. He left my jacket in the front seat. A sign for cigarettes catches my eye and I wonder if Richie wouldn’t mind lingering around for a bit; I could use a couple of drags.  
  
And then I remember the night Richie caught me smoking. Well, “caught”. I’d been smoking since college. Following close after my twin brother. And in any case, the men and women I occasionally had over rarely stayed long enough to get after me about my bad habits. Richie was different. Always had been.  
  
Richie’s always so happy; bright eyes and sweet voice. Gentle. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted and my want for the rabbit has only picked up over the last three years. So, when he caught me smoking outside the cafe where we met and his entire expression changed from happy to _disappointed_ I tossed my last pack of fags out and haven’t picked them up since.  
  
As a cold wind picks up, I grab my jacket out of the passenger side and wrap up, bouncing a little bit for warmth as I listen to the petrol fill up the tank. The sky has become an almost black color and it’s eerie how fast the weather has turned.  
  
When Richie reappears from the store, I remember why we’re doing this. Family emergency. It’s written all over his face: The worry and pain and stress. It hurts my soul to see him so sad. “Hey rabbit, where do you wanna eat?”  
  
The road we’ve stopped seems to have little restaurants, a couple of take away shops. We both need protein.  
  
Richie shrugs and I nod, jumping a little at the little _click_ the pump makes when my tank is full.  
  
Once I’m back in the car, I pull out my phone and check ratings for the restaurants nearby. Travelers frequent this area and I’m mostly looking for the least food poison-y place I can find. I find one, put my phone into the middle console and pull across the street. “Okay, c’mon. Food.”  
  
The restaurant seems pretty empty, which is nice, so I park up close. Richie’s slow moving out of the car and he follows me without a word. It’s pouring just from the time it took us to get inside and grab a booth. I order a coffee and Richie’s lost in the menu. I have a sneaking suspicion he’s not really even _looking_ so I order him a water and a hot chocolate. We must look like an arguing couple. She flashes me a sympathetic look and goes to fill our drink orders.  
  
We always get that _. You two are the **cutest** couple. How long have you been together? You look so in love._ But, it’s never been like that. Not since the first night we went walking after Richie’s rehearsals. He can’t be in a relationship. He’s not allowed.  
  
But, then last night? What the _hell_ was last night?  
  
The silence is killing me and I can’t take it anymore so I reach over, touch Richie’s hand a little bit and he jumps. Snatches his hand away as if he’s been burned. “Rabbit, I -- “  
  
“No, no Rin I’m sorry I… I just can’t -- “ He huffs like what he's thinking isn't connecting with his mouth. We're silent again and he puts his menu down. It’s hard to see him this quiet. Usually it’s difficult for me to get a word in edgewise. Whatever happened on the phone call that came in last night changed him. I’ve never seen him this way. God, don’t let me lose him forever.  
  
The waitress brings back our drinks and I tell her we need another minute. “Drink your hot chocolate, yeah? Maybe it’ll warm you up.”  
  
I listen to the rapid _taptaptap_ of water outside and think about closing the distance across the table, picking Richie’s hand up in my own like we did so easily before. This is probably the most contact I’ve had with him in 6 months. Ever since I royally fucked up.  
  
It’s nice. This. Seeing him. And I can’t help but feel _fucking awful_ that I’m pleased to have a reason to be with him when it is is some horrible tragedy on his side. Such an arsehole, Rin.  
  
“Hey, I know.” I call the waitress over, order us two plates of whatever breakfast special they have, and even Richie… well, he at least tries for a smile. That’s all we did for months. Get breakfast wherever we went. At least that’s still a happy moment for him. Hopefully.  
  
“Rin?” His soft voice jerks me out of my thoughts and I try for a smile, myself.  
  
“Yeah?” I know I sound hopeful, desperate. It’s the first word he’s spoken to me all day. But then he’s quiet again, pensive eyes staring down at the whipped cream on top of his hot chocolate.  
  
“... Do you remember how we met?”  
  
My smile turns genuine and I nod, looking down at my own coffee.  
  


**November 14th, 2013**  
  
There’s a cafe I frequent in Dublin. Okay, it was once, at first, a desperate urge not to let my books get ruined in the rain.  
  
It felt fucking cliched to sit inside, reading Bronte, while Christmas music floated down from the speakers. Everything smelled like cinnamon.  
  
I’d been charmed by the barista into buying some peppermint “coffee” _thing_ and I was in the middle of choking it down when the rabbit first walked in.  
  
Have you ever met someone who _embodies_ their surroundings? His dark wet hair, over-pale skin with big brown doe eyes. He wore this ridiculous cardigan that looked like it had to come from at least 50 years previously. All smiles and light surrounded by Christmas lights and decor. A fucking angel in the rain.  
  
He called out to the barista, someone he evidently knew, and I shot the rest back like scotch and fought my gag reflex. I walked the empty cup to the recycling bin, which was _conveniently_ rather close to the animated happy man in the ugly sweater.  
  
Without looking like I was trying to eavesdrop, I pretended to be really fascinated with the buns and biscuits so I could listen in for his name.  
  
No luck.  
  
He purchased some concoction of cream and sparkling soda and ventured out into the rain once more. That particular cafe became my very favorite to frequent. Sometimes the man, all soft in his sweaters, would sit in the corner and read: scripts, fairy tale books, old romances. Sometimes he would just chat with Irene, the temptress barista behind the counter, and boy did she take notice of me.  
  
“He’ll be here to get his mid-rehearsal coffee in about ten minutes. Try to be quick about this time, yes?”  
  
“Pardon?” I feigned innocence, trying to pay for my coffee. She looked disappointed in my boring black coffee. No, back evil temptress. I would no longer fall prey to your seductions and drink the drinks that make my teeth hurt, for my heart belonged to another.  
  
Irene smiled, her teeth unbelievably white in contrast to her deep red lipstick. “Or, we could both save the trouble and I could just write your name and number on his cup.”  
  
“No! No, no, look, I don’t know what you’re talking about and even if I did -- “ The familiar chime of the shop’s bell mixed with the mischievous glint in Irene’s eyes shut my mouth.  
  
“Well, well you’re early today, Rabbit.”  
_Rabbit?_  
  
I shuffled aside, damn near tripping over my feet to clear the way. Yeah, that was always an easy comparison. I caught myself staring again and then he spoke.  
  
“Hot chocolate, please?”  
  
The thing about Rabbit’s voice is that it could easily have been plucked from your loveliest dream. A soft lilting, gentle thing. It filled my head when I went to classes, when I wrote papers. We’d never even spoken words to each other. He was speaking now. A back and forth between Rabbit and Irene and then I was rudely awakened by the sound of my name.  
  
He was looking at me. Impossibly warm, soulful eyes boring into my soul and leaving me raw and desperate. “Wh-Wh.. Huh?”  
  
Smoooooooth.  
  
“I was saying, this is Rich. He’s a friend of mine from uni.”  
  
I moved like I was sinking into a tar pit and I realized that Rich had his hand hanging in the air between us. I shook his, an awkward, nervous smile on my lips. “Severin. Ah -- Rin.”  
  
Rich.  
  
The most beautiful man in I’d ever seen. In Europe. In the world.  
  
“Well, it was… it was nice meeting you, Rin.” Rich said with a tone that held a vague concern for the stunned arse standing in front of him.  
  
“Yeah. Yeah! You too.” Stupid. My tongue felt like cotton in my mouth, my hand dropping to my side as Irene handed Rich his hot chocolate and then the rabbit was gone.  
  
Apparently, this had been the funniest thing to happen to Irene all day and she conveyed it thoroughly until I was sure I was the color of her lipstick. She handed me my coffee and I snatched it from her with some quiet mumbling. “Aw, no Rin don’t be angry. You may be completely useless but I’m not.”  
  
She gestured to my cup and I had a look at the black writing that wasn’t my name.  
  
Richard Brook  
And a 10 digit phone number.  
  
I shuffled around in my pocket for a five pound note, shoved it into her tip jar and left in a better mood than I’d ever remembered being in my life.  
  
  
**October 2nd, 2015**

We spend an hour in the restaurant and I do most of the talking, but we’re communicating. It’s almost as easy as it had been two years ago.  
  
By the time Richie finishes off his pancakes he’s smiling. Actually smiling. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes but we’ve got 6 more hours in the car.  
  
I have time.


	2. If I had only seen how you smile when you blush.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been so long since we’ve touched this way that all of the breath leaves me like I’ve been punched in the gut. I circle my arms around Rich and hold him as tightly as I can without digging the console into him.

**October 2nd, 2015**

When we’re back on the road, Rich has become a bit more talkative. He commandeers control of the music. We listen to his ridiculous combination of classical pieces and movie soundtracks he has stored on his phone. Whatever. It makes him happy. I listen to him hum along with impossible melodies.

“What is this, Rin?” It's a game. Play with him. You remember how.

I hum with him to something I’ve _definitely_ heard in my flat before. Maybe?

I catch sight of Richie and he’s watching me, a little smile playing about his lips. He looks game.

“Don’t tell me.” I say quickly, watching his smile grow a little bit.  
  
“I’m certain you know this, Rin. Do you want a hint?”  
  
I whine a little in frustration. I feel like it’s on the tip of my tongue.

Okay, run through a list: Not Bach, this isn’t Mozart.   
Damn “Yeah, fuck. Gimme a hint.”  
  
Richie gestures to something outside the passenger window and I must look confused because he laughs and tries again. Wiggles his fingers and draws his hands down.  
His beautiful bell of a laugh floats around in my head.

The ceiling? The sky? The -- Oh!

“Chopin!” I cry in victory. “It’s that raindrop one right?”  
  
Richie smiles and nods. He looks proud. Happy Bunny.  
  
There are _smiles_  here and we’re playing ‘Guess the Instrumental Piece’ in my car. It’s semblance of normal. A sense of us. Like we used to be.  
  
“Okay, again. Something film this time _please._ I’m not good at all the classical crap. Ah. Music.” I correct myself when he flashes me a grumpy little look.  
  
He scrolls through his music, humming bits of melody from the Chopin piece. I glance at him when the silence fills the air for far too long and he looks pale. Paler than normal.

“Rich?”  
  
“You pick.” He says, unplugging the auxiliary cord from his phone and tossing it over to my side of the car. There’s a tone I don’t like. It’s like someone punched him in the gut and he’s trying to pretend the hit never happened.  
  
“Rich, talk to me.” I prod, a hint of desperation in my voice. God, _please_ talk to me.  
  
There’s hardly anyone on this long stretch of road with us, so I keep glancing over, maybe a bit more than necessary. He’s biting his thumb nail and I have to resist the urge to reach over and move his hand away from his lips. I’m worried about him. The last time he did this time he bled.

The rain’s picked up again. Why does the damn rain seem to come and go with Richard’s moods?  
  
The silence hangs around us like a cloud and I _hate_ it. I can’t stand silence. I’ve never been able to take it, opting to fill any space with background noise. But this is worse. This is Richard. And he’s not talking to me.  
  
I pull off to the side of the road for a moment, plug in my phone and hit shuffle.  
  
Queen. That’s fine.  
  
I tug off my coat, toss it into the back seat, and turn to the side to look at Richard. He’s not looking back at me.  
“Please talk to me? At least tell me why we’re going all the way out here?.”

I’m under his thumb. Since the moment we met and that’s me all over. Pretty Rabbit asks ‘oh Rin, please take me to London?’ and he’s damn near sobbing and then he’s _kissing me_ and I crumble. _Yes Rabbit, anything for you_.

“Please?” I try again, but still he says nothing. I’m counting out the beats to ‘Another One Bites The Dust’ because I have to do _something_.

I just want him to look at me. Look at me with those big soulful eyes and give me a clue as to who he is beyond late night phone calls, and American romance movies from the 1950s. He tells me nothing about his past. He knows everything about mine.  
  
“Rabbit…?”

It hurts. It kills me that he doesn’t trust me enough with whatever this is. This family shit that’s keeping him from me.  
  
“Okay. Fine.” I let out an exhausted sigh, turning back onto the road.  
  
The GPS says the hotel’s an hour and a half away. Thank fuck.

  
  
**November 15th, 2013**

I stared at the coffee cup all damn night. By the time the sun rose and I deemed myself too fucking tired to go to classes, I had Richard Brook’s phone number memorized. I made him a contact in my phone, pulled up a new open message, and decided to go shower before. Letting my nerves get the best of me.

I did everything I could that day to distract myself: I did homework, cleaned,  I even bought groceries.  
  
It took me a while but finally;

  
{17:02}  
_Hi, Richard? It's Rin. We met yesterday? - RM_

  
  
I barely had time to breathe before --

  
{17:03}  
_Oh, yes! Were you all right? You seemed a bit out of it. I'm guessing Irene gave you my number? - RB_

_  
_

{17:04}  
_Yeah, I have my moments, I guess. Can we call it lack of sleep and pretend I wasn't such an idiot around you? - RM_

_{17:04}  
_ _And yeah, she gave me your number. I hope that's okay. - RM_

 

_{17:08}_  
_She does that quite often, actually. I think she wants me to find a boyfriend. - RB_  
__  
{17:09}  
And I suppose so, but only because you're being so nice about it. ;) - RB

 

I took a slow breath, tried to steel myself.

 

_{17:10}_  
_Look I mean, I don't know about “boyfriend” but maybe we could - RM_  
__  
{17:10}  
Yeah, see I'm bad at this. - RM

 

Stupid idiot. And then our responses came at the same time.

  
_{17:12}_  
_How would you feel about having dinner with me? - RM_

_{17:13}  
_ _Oh um,  how about we get a coffee sometime? Just have a chat? - RB_

 

_{17:14}_  
_That’s even better - RM_

_{17:15}  
_ _I have rehearsals and I usually eat dinner with the cast. And that's if we even get out of the theater. Coffee would be easier. - RB_

 

_{17:18}  
__Okay. Our usual spot then? - RM_ _  
  
_ {17:19}  
_Yeah, that sounded weird and stalkery didn't it? - RM_

 

_{17:22}_ _  
_ _Only a little - RB_

 

_{17:23}_

_I meant it in the best Non-Stalkery way, I swear. - RM_

_{17:24}_

_That sounds nice. It's been a long time since I've had coffee with someone else. - RB_

 

Two years. Two years since _I_ had coffee with another person. And that person had only been my sister.

 

_{17:26}_  
_Yeah, me too. - RM_  
_{17:28}_ _  
So, tomorrow? - RM_

  
_{17:28}  
I’ll see you around 9 am?- RB_

  
_{17:29}_ _  
_ Sounds great. - RM

 

_{17:30}_ _  
_ _Until tomorrow, then. - RB_

 

_{17:32}_ _  
_ _Until tomorrow. - RM_

I was at the damn place at eight in the morning. By the time eight-thirty rolled around I was jittery from the amount of coffee I’d been served. Not by Irene. Someone I hadn’t seen run the cash before. Nice girl, though.  
  
I got us a table. His usual table. One tucked away in the corner right next to the large window. It had started to snow just as I’d left my flat that morning and I had a hell of a time not picturing how adorable he would look wrapped up in some cardigan with snow in his hair.  
  
And then there he was. Wrapped up in a cardigan. Snow in his hair.  
  
I stood up as he entered, gave him a little wave. I realized there was no one else in the shop. Oh man how I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole.  
  
Richard seemed amused, at least, by my nervous idiosyncrasies. He picked up a cup from the quiet woman behind the counter and sat in the chair. His preferred chair, across from me.

“It’s _cold_ out.”  
  
I nodded and glanced out the window as the snow starts to pick up. Heavy flakes fell to the ground.  
  
“Yeah. November will do that.”  
  
This was the first time we’d done this. Made small conversation with each other over coffee in the spot where I first laid eyes on him. His cheeks and nose were pink from the cold outside and he warmed his hands on his hot chocolate cup.

There was melting snow in his hair and, before I could stop myself, I reached up, brushed flakes from his dark hair.

_What a forward move, Moran._

I let my fingers linger for a minute, his dark eyes fixing me with a look of confusion and surprise and I snap my hand back.  
  
“Shit, I’m… sorry. Sorry. You had snow in your hair.”  
  
He smiled nervously, leaned back in his chair. Away from my reach. I felt my heart drop a little bit. _Don’t do that again._ The message was clear.  
  
“So, you’re an actor?” I ventured after a moment of semi-awkward silence.  
  
We talked for hours. I listened to RIchard tell me all about his acting troupe, the current part he had in some Christmas play that I would end up going to later. I told him about my scholastic adventures. The journey of a hopeful creative writing professor.  
  
The snow was still coming down around two in the afternoon and we’d fallen into a sort of comfortable silence.  
  
I was starved and I could hear by the sound his stomach made that Rich was too.  
  
We ordered sandwiches from the barista and Richard informed me that her name is Molly. Forgetting her name tag was something she did sometimes apparently. She was kind. Her smile was warm and genuine when she looked at Rich.  
  
This kid could make friends with _anybody_.

Another hour went by and by the time we were done eating. I realized I didn’t want Richie to leave my side. Not yet. I checked my phone a bit hopefully and smiled when I realized my afternoon classes had been cancelled due to do the snow.  
  
“Hey, it turns out that I’m free this afternoon. Would you maybe want to get refills to go and have a walk?”  
  
Richie hesitated, his hands gripping the empty cup in front of him. There seemed to be some sort of internal battle going on. Just as I was about to say _hey nevermind, this was really fun. Maybe we can do it again?_ , he seemed to make up his mind.

“Absolutely.”

 

**October 2nd, 2015**

Richard has these fingerless gloves that make his hands look _impossibly_ touchable. The first time I ever saw them was that day in November. Now, he’s digging through the little backpack of clothes and other necessities he threw together before we left. He finds what he’s looking for, those damn gloves, and puts them on.  
  
At this point, I don’t expect much. If Richard wants to talk, he will. My music has been slowly cycling through my library: Queen, ACDC, some film instrumentals. It’s an hour before he finally reaches into the console for my phone, scrolls around until he finds my Mad Max soundtracks and hits shuffle.  
  
“Now, this is a proper road adventure.” I murmur and it makes him laugh. Kind of a surprised bark of a laugh, but a laugh.

“I don’t know how proper it is,” he murmurs in return, but his tone isn’t malicious. It just doesn’t feel proper. More of a somber death march minus the hearse. “Maybe one day we can have one. Screaming down a strip of desert.”

_Oh, well, that’s a start._ I think to myself as I catch him trying to warm his hands. I’m pretty tolerant of the cold. It’s always like this. I’m fine until I notice Rabbit shivering.  
  
I turn up the heat, reaching over and taking his wrist, guiding it towards the warm air. He tenses but doesn’t pull back. We used to touch so easily. Our hands finding one another, fingers entwining. Now it’s like we’re strangers. Hell, we were more comfortable with each other when we _were_ strangers.  
  
“I’ve always wanted to go to Las Vegas.” I start, hands back on the steering wheel. Richie’s eyes are out of my line of sight, his gaze focused on the scenery or the sky or maybe nothing at all. Good. If I can’t see that heartbroken painful look maybe I’ll be able to keep it together a bit longer.

“Lay in the heat and drink by the pool. Maybe we could go. Rent a car and we can take turns trying not to get each other killed, driving on the wrong side of the road.”

Richie has his eyes on his hands, his fingers looking like they’re starting to warm up a bit more. Good. It’s a while before he speaks again. Long silences followed by quiet words. That’s what we’ve become.

“Maybe,” he says like it was difficult to get out. His shoulders slump and I want so badly to stop the car and pull Richie into my lap. Comfort him.

Either way, I’m going to have to be the talker here. I know it. I steel myself for it and tilt my head, trying to crack my neck. There’s a headache forming at the base of my skull and I am _not_ ready to put up with a migraine. Not now. I have to drive. I have to keep Richie’s spirits up as much as possible.

  
“Couple more hours until we get to the hotel. Maybe less if the rain lessens up. It’s supposed to be a little town maybe we could,“ I shrug, turn the heat down just a little bit so I’m not roasting where I sit. “See if they have a cinema or something.”

I glance over. Hopeful. “See if the hotel has a tub better than the one at my flat. You could have a soak.”

Those eyes are on me again, deep and rich. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself in check.

“A tub sounds nice,” he says with a soft smile but it’s not right. He’s forcing himself, the curve of his lips not quite lighting his eyes. “And I think a walk would be good, too.”

By now I know his fake smiles in contrast to his real ones. The way his eyes light up and he's so quick to laugh. This man is a shadow of the one I fell in love with. I love this man all the same. I want to make him happy. I want to hold him and protect him from this terror that I know nothing about. But this could be good. A few hours and maybe dinner before coaxing Richie into a restless sleep. I’m not expecting what comes next.

“I...I’m sorry, Rin. I’m trying, really I am.”

“I know you are. I know. You haven't done anything wrong I only wish I knew what the phone call was about. And I know, I do get it, Richard. I won’t… I’m not going to force you into talking to me about your family things.”

The whole situation with his family put me off. Since the moment he said that he wasn’t _allowed_ to date.

  
 

**November 15th, 2013**

“Bullshit.” I scoffed, my arm slung around Richie’s shoulders to keep him warm. He was a shivery little thing. We’d been walking for about half an hour, watching the trees get dusted with the snowfall. The conversation had gotten around to home lives and siblings.  
  
I told him about my sister Sierra. How she couldn’t stay in one place longer than a week if her life depended on it. How she was due to show up on my doorstep any day now and crash on the couch for a week. I told him about Sebastian. How he’d just gotten out of the army and returned to London. Sebastian and I didn’t talk much then, Just like we don’t talk much now. Not since he went and fucking enlisted. So much for the whole creepy twin connection.

Richie however doesn’t say a lot. He doesn’t really communicate with his parents but then he tells me that all of his brothers are named James.

“It’s true!” He giggled, my incredulous outburst triggering some kind of laughing fit. “James, Jim, and Jamie. Da was a bit of a narcissist.”

“ _Clearly_. And I thought my family was a disaster.”

That was a mistake. He fell silent, eyes on the snow. I listened to the _crunch crunch crunch_ of snow under boots.  
  
_Arsehole_ . I scolded myself, running a gloved hand over my face before I tried to change the subject. I didn’t know how to apologize for that. I didn’t know if I _should_ apologize for that comment or if an apology would make things worse.

Instead I focused on the surroundings. The position I’m in with my arm around this beautiful man who smelled like Christmas. We walked around the city in the snow. I realized I didn’t want to go. Possibly ever.

“Rich?” I looked down at him as we walk, reaching to take hold of his hand and have a look at the state of his fingers. I made a note to get him some damn proper mittens if we were going to do this ever again. He looked at me expectantly, nervously. I wondered if he knew what I was about to ask.

“I’d like to see you again. Would you be -- “ But he cut me off.

“Rin I...I’m very flattered but I’m actually not allowed to date.” His words hung in the air and I was struck by how serious his voice had turned.

“What… what do you mean _not allowed_ ?” What the Hell did that even _mean_?

“It’s very _very_ complicated...So let’s just leave it at ‘not allowed’, all right?”

I shut my mouth with an audible snap.

“Yeah, Richie, okay. But this is okay? My arm around you? Friends do that, yeah?” I tried for a smile, tried to make it known that I wasn’t going anywhere. I didn’t _want_ to go anywhere. I felt good there with Richie. I’d stay as long as he’d let me.

Richie nodded, looking a bit relieved at my reaction. “Yeah. Yeah! Of course we can be friends. I would really like that, Rin.”  
 

**October 2nd, 2015**

The rain has picked up again and I drive a bit slower, still making excellent time to our next stop. Secretly, I want this to last. I want to sit in this car with Richie forever until I can get his smile to reach his eyes and his laugh to come more freely. I don’t want to reach whatever disaster is going to happen when we reach London.

I want him to talk to me.

“I still don’t know if I believe you about your brothers’ names.” I tease, bringing up an old playful argument from the first day we ever spent time together. “That had to be a hell of a thing when one of them was in trouble. I used to get the full name from my mum. Terrifying. Being called Severin still kind of makes my hair stand on end.”

Silence from the passenger seat.

My headache is starting to throb, my vision blurring. “Hey Rich? Can we… do you think we can switch a while? My head is killing me.”

He nods so I pull over and walk around the front of the car. Once I’m settled inside, I dig around for some painkillers.

“It’s all right if you want to sleep,” he tells me, his voice gentle and quiet, “I can get us the rest of the way to the hotel.”

I’m tired, that’s true. But, I don’t think I could take my eyes off of Richie now if I tried. I settle against the car door, head back against the icy window. We haven’t moved and after a few moments I look back at him.

Richie looks lost inside of himself. I reach for the GPS and try to get his attention.

“Where do we need to go when we get to London? I’ll plug it into the GPS for later.”

“St. Bart’s Hospital,” Shit. Why are we going to a hospital?

Richie looks like he’s at war with himself. I try to process why our destination is the hospital and as I open my mouth Rich says it. The thing that ripped the most agonized moan from my Rabbit. The reason we’re headed off to London.

“It’s my brother. Jim. My twin brother. He tried to kill himself.”

Oh.

I picture a carbon copy of Richie lying in a hospital bed with bruises around his neck or bandages around his wrists. I’ve stopped breathing. I don’t want to picture that anymore.

A phone call.   _‘Sebastian put a pistol in his mouth. Tried to kill himself.’_ We don’t talk a lot, but it’d still gut me if my brother were laying in a hospital bed somewhere.

Richard had been inconsolable last night. Desperate and pulling and begging and all I could do was dumbly follow his pleas. I had _no_ idea what was tearing him up inside. _Fuck_. Now I know why.

  
“I’m sorry.” I say weakly. Those two words don’t mean _shit_ but they’re all I can say. “Richie, I’m so sorry.”

I try for something else, anything else to say. Nothing will fix this. Thankfully, Richie takes the lead.

“Jim has bad days. Awful days. I was worried this might happen one day but he always...he lashed _out_ , not in. I never really imagined he would try something like this,” The words are tripping out of Richie faster and faster until I’m _sure_ he’s going to drive himself into a full blown panic attack.

  
“But I got a call and his boyfriend was with him and James can’t get away immediately and no one even knows where Jamie _is_ . Our Da is gone and none of us have spoken to mum in _years,_ so, I’m all he has. I’m all he has and I need to get to him, Rin.”

I sit up quickly, reaching for Richard and put my hand on his arm, the other searching through my stuff for my bottle of painkillers.  
  
“We’ll be there tomorrow morning. Wake up early and get to St. Bart’s. The GPS says only half an hour until we get to the hotel. We’ll get settled in and then we can have a walk, okay?” _Shit._ **_Fuck_ ** _._  
  
I keep my hand on Richard, a little frightened that if I move away he’ll shatter.

“Is this okay? That I’m touching you?”  
He doesn’t say a thing and I keep my mouth shut in return. What the _fuck_ do I say?

“What...What if he hadn’t just tried? What if he tries again?” he chokes, “Jim won’t go to the mental hospital. Ever since we were little we…”  He cuts himself off as if he thinks he’s said too much.  
  
Unstable twin brother. The constant fear Richie must live in has to be a miserable way to live. This is the most he’s ever told me beyond family names. He’s always been a very private person. After three years this is all I know.

“Richie.” I squeeze his arm gently, ducking my head to try to get his attention and he seems ready to break.  “Rabbit, c’mere. Please.”

We shared my bed more times than I can count and there were nights where Richie would wake up in a cold sweat. I’d sit up and pull him into my lap, cradle him until he soothed. I open my arms, hoping he’ll take my offer for that comfort for the first time in a year. “Let me hold you.”

Richie releases the seat belt from the clip and leans over into my arms. He’s shaking. My heart aches for him.

It’s been so long since we’ve touched this way that all of the breath leaves me like I’ve been punched in the gut. I circle my arms around Rich and hold him as tightly as I can without digging the console into him.

“When we get to the hotel I’m going to hold you in my lap for a while, okay?” I pull back and cup Richie’s cheek with my hand and it’s all _very_ intimate. So much so that it makes my heart pound. _Christ_ , I want to kiss him.

Those eyes bore into my soul, tearing bits and pieces of me to shreds. How did I pull through this last year without my fix of this. Richie and his beautiful eyes, beautiful hands, beautiful everything.

“I…” he starts, but then he looks _guilty_ and I know why. Whoever it is that won’t let him be with anyone. Not ever. I want to _punch_ this fucker in the face. Someone’s wormed their way into Richie so deeply he’s scared to open himself up to anyone.    
  
“Thank you, Rin. That sounds nice. Can I still have a bathe? And we could still take a walk?”

“Anything for you, Bunny.” _Fuck it_ . I lean in and press my lips to Richie’s cheek. Need to. Have to. Richie has become a part of my life and this last year has been _hell_. There’s no real reprieve for us here. I’m watching the love of my life suffer because his twin brother is lying in some hospital bed in London.  

“Let’s get to the hotel, Rabbit. I’ll take care of you.”

Richie pulls away from me and my hands linger on his arms before I finally tell myself _‘Let go, moron, he has to drive.’_  
  
We’re back on the road a few moments later and I’m watching the scenery zip past.  
  
I want to drive the heartbreak out of Richie’s eyes and fill them with happiness. I want to build a life with him and protect him from the things that frighten him. I want to wake up next to him every day and cook him eggs.  
  
_I’m fucked._  

 

**November 15th, 2013**

  
I walked Richie home, my arm around him the entire way. The building he lived in was small but nice. Cozy. Richie all over.

We were up at the landing and he said,

“This is me.”  
  
And I didn’t want to go home. I never wanted to go home again. I wanted to say stupid shit like _I know this is fucking crazy but I love you. I think I’ve loved you since we met. Please don’t send me away. Please let me kiss you and stay at your side for eternity._ But, instead I said,

“Til next time, yeah?”  
  
Then Richie smiled and my fucking knees felt week.

  
“Til next time, Rin.”  
  
And then he was gone and I stared at the space he used to occupy. Despite everything I begin to laugh and I force my feet to move.  
  
“Christ, I am so fucked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to jlillymoon for being my beta. You've been super helpful. I'm at work as I post this so I hope it's okay.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a slow burn because I only have a vague idea of what I'm doing. This took eeeeeeffort to post so I hope you all like it. <3


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